I am no Poet here; my pen's the spout where the rain water of my eyes run out.
I am no Poet here; my pen's the spout where the rain water of my eyes run out.
Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom nor forced him wander, but confine him home.
Love melts the rigor which the rocks have bred; a flint will break upon a feather bed.
This raw clip of Palmetto Pointe will give anyone goose bumps, because it has a dynamite cast and tight line of talent from other hit shows,
Strafford who was hurried hence 'Twixt treason and convenience.
My tears will keep no channel, know no laws to guide their streams, but like the waves, their cause, run with disturbance till they swallow me as a description of his misery.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories